


deus ex Mycroft

by thisprettywren



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Community: thegameison_sh, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-04
Updated: 2011-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprettywren/pseuds/thisprettywren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea's POV on the Mycroft/John meeting, now with added Vergil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deus ex Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Cycle 2 Challenge 2](http://community.livejournal.com/thegameison_sh/30180.html) over at  , for which the prompt was "love."  
> 

It had started as a joke. “Deus ex machina,” she’d said to Mycroft after he’d stepped in, yet again, to rescue that brother of his. It had been echoed back a few days later by Peter, the other PA (garbled, of course, and he’d been sacked for incompetence shortly thereafter; such misunderstanding of basic syntax wasn’t the first sin he’d committed in Mycroft’s book, but it had been the last. If it had surprised Peter that was only _more_ proof that he was ill-suited for the position): “Deus ex Mycroft.”

Just because it was syntactically wrong didn’t mean it wasn’t fundamentally correct, and she had no qualms about telling him so.

`Deus ex Mycroft. It does suit. We minor gods do your bidding.`

And it did: _god from Mycroft_ , and they his _putti_. The image of him as Venus, dispatching her as Cupid to ensnare and beguile and manipulate on his behalf.

It had been enough to bring down Carthage, after all. Not a bad trick, for the British government.

He started calling her Anthea shortly after that. One of the Graces, goddess of the spring, and it changed by the season; the point was less _who_ she was than _what_ : a goddess, and always the _correct_ goddess, the one most suited to the occasion.

And she did his bidding. As she was doing now, waiting in the car for Mycroft to finish placing the call to the doctor. _John,_ she reminded herself.

Her phone buzzed. Number masked, as expected, but always signed, from him. (It wasn’t true that he never texted—of course he did—though he enjoyed keeping his brother on his toes and would always call _him_ if given the opportunity.)

` Time. Fly, Cupid. MH`

She gave the signal and the car pulled into traffic. It only had a block or two to go; Mycroft had predicted the doctor’s reaction well.

`You’re thinking of Iris. And our Dido’s not dead yet.`

The phone buzzed again as the car pulled up to the kerb.

`Better if we can end without the city in flames. And you’re jumping ahead; there’s safe harbour to ensure first. MH`

Pushing open the door there was the doctor and yes, it would be better to keep the city intact, but she could see immediately how rootless this man was.

`He has no kingdom to burn.`

`That’s what we’re here to give him. MH`

***

“You’re very loyal, _very_ quickly.” It was an accusation, and a challenge.

` And will you give them a rainstorm, too?`

It would make him smile, later, when he saw the message, in the same way it made her smile to hear his jibe about a _happy announcement_ , addressed to John but directed at her in the shadows.

 _Does not my right hand given to you in promise deter you?_ It, too, was a challenge, and if Mycroft inspected John’s left, it only made sense; it was the hand with which he held his gun, and thus the instrument of the pledge that would keep them in orbit around one another.

John had turned to leave, his face set into stubborn lines, and Mycroft did not call him back again.

`No need. I suspect the storm will find them of its own accord. MH`

`A cave then? Your brother will destroy him when he leaves.`

`He may try. But this one understands duty. The trick is making him understand that the surest way to stay is to follow. MH `

_Any point in asking where I’m going?_

 _None at all, John._

It hadn’t fazed him. He might be able to keep his kingdom and his soul, then, if he could build the former on the fluid foundation that was Sherlock, and keep the latter safely away from the hunters’ arrows. It might not have to end in flames after all.

There was more wandering for him to do, yet, but when she relayed the message it was a promise: “I’m to take you home.”


End file.
